Ensnared
by preciouslittleingenue
Summary: "I am the little boy who went into the sea to rescue your scarf..." One look at her, and he was ensnared, never to be whole again. Everyone has their origin story, this is theirs. Two children on the shore that still believe in magic, two children with their hearts on their sleeve, before they grew into a world that taught them to hide their hearts. One-shot.


The salty wind whipped around him, tossing his golden curls about his smooth face. He pushed a few strands out of his deep blue eyes, panting desperately. He'd just outrun his governess once again, and this time, she'd never find him. This time, he'd hidden behind the big rocks. He'd surely done it this time! He would finally be free to explore the shore without that woman poking her nose in his business.

Raoul sat in the sand for a moment to catch his breath, his back leaning against the large rock that concealed him from the view of authority. He started sifting the sand through his fingers, and intended to do so for a few more minutes before he got up to go exploring.

That's when he heard it.

At first, he'd thought it was simply the wind, whistling about. Or perhaps the gulls crying out to each other. It began to sound more and more peculiar however, and it wasn't long before he had the distinct feeling that this was not nature's song. He let the sand drop from his fingers and tugged his shoes and socks off, longing to feel the sand mold beneath his feet. He curiously began to walk forward, following the odd sound. The farther he walked, the more and more human it sounded. It sounded like music…almost like singing.

And that was when he decided it was the single most beautiful sound he'd ever heard.

Completely enraptured by this mysterious voice, he trekked onward, and it became louder and louder, more and more clear. It was a high, sweet voice, no doubt the voice of a young girl. It was mystifying! Magical! Was it truly a girl? Or was it a mermaid? Or a nymph, a fairy? Perhaps an angel!

He began to walk faster, desperate to find the source of the voice, human or not. He came across a fairly steep hill, and trudged up, slipping in the sand or occasionally tripping over his own feet. He reached the top of the hill and stopped. At the bottom of the hill he could make out a flash of red darting about on the sand. Upon squinting his eyes, he could make out a tiny figure, dancing about. There was no doubt in his mind that that was precisely where the singing was coming from.

Indeed, she seemed like a little fairy. But upon getting closer, he could see that it was an ordinary little girl.

 _Not ordinary,_ he told himself. _She is different. She is special._

Her voice soared and carried to the sky, out to sea, dancing on the waves. He stopped at the bottom of the hill to watch her, perhaps fifteen feet from her small body. She had all the grace of a mermaid, all the charm of a nymph, all the spirit of a fairy, and all the more beauty than any of those creatures combined. His breath had simply left his body. It seemed to him that she'd sucked the very breath out of him. Perhaps she did carry magic, enough to steal his breath and capture his heart so that he would never be whole again.

The beautiful display suddenly stopped, and the singing was interrupted by a frightened gasp. The two stared at each other, two sets of blue orbs capturing each other in an intense gaze. They were both still as the rocks that he'd just hidden behind, and yet his mind raced and swam like the waves before both of them.

"Please do not disappear!" he suddenly blurted, now quite convinced she was a creature of magic that would vanish into thin air. "I will not hurt you. I didn't mean to frighten you."

She simply kept staring back at him, hardly blinking. Terrified she would vanish if he moved any closer, he remained rooted in his spot, racking his mind for something, anything else to say.

"I…I heard your singing…" he said sheepishly. He felt his white face flush red. "It…it's beautiful." As he watched her, he saw that her cheeks also flushed red, and she seemed to begin breathing harder. "I only wanted to see where it was coming from."

There was another silence in which they kept staring at each other.

"Where…where did you learn that?"

There was a small pause, and his heart stopped as she opened her mouth; she was going to speak to him!

"My father," she said. Her voice was small and frightened, not at all like the voice he'd just heard.

"He taught you?"

"Yes."

He could now see that the flash of red he'd mistaken for magic red smoke from afar was truly a simple red scarf wrapped tightly around her throat, protecting that magical part of her that produced such enrapturing sounds.

"That…that is a lovely scarf," he said unsurely. He cursed himself for saying something so foolish.

"Thank you," she said, and his heart lifted. It was not the soft, timid, obligatory thank you he'd expected. It was strong, real, compassionate. She beamed when she said it. "Do you really like it?"

"Yes!" he said eagerly, overjoyed to see her come alive once again as she had when she was singing.

"Oh, that makes me glad," she said genuinely, her smile growing brighter. "It was my mother's, you see."

"Was it a gift?" he asked, curious now to know more about that thing that she seemed to take such pride in, that simple piece of cloth.

"I…I suppose," she said. "She said that I may have it after…after she died," she said, retreating now back to her old timid self.

"Your mother is dead?" he said sadly. In that moment, he knew very well that she was a very human little girl, not sprite, fairy or nymph. His boyish, foolish admiration of her melted away, and he suddenly felt nothing but compassion. She nodded sadly in response to his question.

"So is mine," he said. Knowing now that she was human and real and that she would not vanish, he took a few steps closer to her.

"Really…?" she said, mirroring his actions by stepping closer to him.

"Yes," he said. "I've lived my whole life without her."

"Oh," she said forlornly. "How very sad…"

"Did your mother die giving birth to you, too?" he said, his eyebrows furrowing together.

"No," she said. "She became sick, awfully sick. I got to hold her hand and kiss her goodnight when she fell asleep for the last time," she whispered, a distant, strange look in her eye. "She always kissed me goodnight, and I promised her that someday I would kiss her goodnight too. So I did." She said it all so very calmly, as if this passing were the most natural thing in the world. "I was six then. Now I'm nine. So that's three years without a Mama." She looked up at him with those big beautiful eyes, tears of sadness and pity in her eyes. "You've been much longer than I."

"Twelve years," he said sadly. "Twelve years without a Maman."

"Oh, you poor boy," she said passionately, clutching her heart. "I am so sorry you didn't get to kiss your Mama goodnight."

His heart swelled with an unknown, untouchable emotion as she stared at him with that longing, pitying gaze. "Thank you, little dear," he said.

They were now only a few steps from each other. "My name is Christine," she said quietly. "But 'little dear' sounds lovely when you say it."

He blushed at that, staring at his bare feet. "I'm Raoul," he said sheepishly, daring to peek up at her after he said it.

She smiled at the sound of his name, and he smiled back, pleased that he seemed to have pleased her.

"Would you like to see my scarf, Raoul?" she said. "I never show it to anybody. This scarf is for very special people only."

"Yes, I would like that very much," he said excitedly.

She beamed at him and closed the space between them. She unwrapped the fabric from around her neck and held it firmly in her hands, presenting it to him as if it were the crowned jewel.

"It is so very soft," she said gently. "It used to smell like Mama, but now it only smells of the sea." Raoul tenderly stroked the red fabric. "Papa says that it still does smell like Mama, because Mama is part of the wind and the sea." She looked up at him questioningly, and he met her gaze. "Papa says to think of Mama kissing my cheek when the wind blows. I don't really understand…but it _is_ nice to imagine getting a kiss from Mama, even though she's gone. Don't you think?"

"Yes," Raoul said. A light breeze blew by, and he suddenly felt warm all over, although the wind chilled him on the surface. It was true; he'd felt his Maman's kiss. He'd never felt it before in his life to even recognize it, but he had felt it just now. He truly had.

"We're very alike, aren't we?" Little Christine asked, a hint of a tiny smile creeping onto her face.

"Yes, we are," Raoul said, smiling back at her.

"Papa says I should make friends with children who I am alike," she said simply. "He said we would get along nicely that way."

"He is right."

"Yes," she said, and she suddenly slipped into deep thought. "Although I'm certain that even if we weren't alike, I should want to be your friend anyway."

This made Raoul blush, and she giggled. "You look awfully silly when you turn red." His blush deepened at this, and she laughed out loud. "Why, it's like magic! My voice makes you red!" She doubled over laughing, and he grew all the more red.

"You…you make me feel strange, little Christine…"

"You certainly look strange!" she cried. "Why, you're as red as my - "

Another gust of wind came by, and the beloved cloth flew out of her little hands and was carried out to the sea.

"Oh!" she cried, horrified. "Oh, no! No, no, no!"

"Oh, poor Little Christine," Raoul said sadly.

"I cannot lose it! I can't!" she cried. She sprinted toward the water, and Raoul's heart leapt. He suddenly ran after her.

"Wait! Christine, wait!" Raoul called. He caught her by the shoulders as she stood with her feet in the water. "You can't mean to go and fetch it! You'll drown! You'll become ill!"

"Oh, but I can't lose it!" She suddenly began to cry, a horrible sight to the boy's eyes. His heart absolutely broke; she was a lost animal when she cried, a poor, helpless babe.

"You…you shan't!" he exclaimed bravely. "Dry your tears, Little Christine, I shall fetch it!"

Before she could protest, beg him not to put his life in danger for her sake, he was sprinting into the water, and before she knew it, he was swimming against the waves, after the little speck of red floating upon the surface. She cried and carried on all the while, screaming when his head disappeared from sight. Oh, if he drowned, she would never forgive herself!

She watched him like a hawk, as well as she could through her wretched tears. As he got closer to her beloved scarf, her heart soared higher and higher, and when his fist finally closed about it, she screamed with delight and clasped her hands together.

"Oh! You've got it! You've got it!" she cried. "Hurry back, hurry back!"

She urged him on, her tears still flowing freely and her body still trembling fiercely. Her heart pounded furiously as he fought the tide to return to her, and for a terrifying moment, she thought that her dear boy was lost.

"Come back! You must!" she called desperately. "Hurry!"

His golden head was suddenly in view again, and she screamed again, urging him on all the more passionately.

"You are here!" she cried. "Come, dear boy! You're here!"

He began to wade in the shallow water, holding the scarf above his head like a victory flag. She screamed and clapped her hands again, rushing forward to help pull him out of the water and onto dry sand.

"Oh! Oh, dear, dear boy!" she exclaimed all the while. He suddenly collapsed onto the sand, heaving breaths and coughing up water.

"Oh, you poor thing!" she said passionately, kneeling by his side. "You must not die! You mustn't!"

A tired smile found its way to his face, and she caught the sound of a small chuckle. "I will not die, Christine."

"Oh!" she cried again. "You are the bravest, most wonderful boy I have ever met!" she cried. "Dear, dear boy! You have saved my scarf, my mother's lovely scarf meant just for me…oh!"

Her eyes began to fill with tears now, tears of sheer joy. Raoul had finally pushed himself into a sitting position, and he nearly fell over again when the little girl threw her arms around him.

"Dear boy!" she said again, not caring in the least that her own clothes were being soaked by his. "Thank you, thank you!"

"I would do anything to never see you cry again," he said, and he truly meant it. It hurt his very soul to see such a delicate, beautiful creature so broken.

"Oh…" She pulled herself off of him, and looked into his crystal clear blue eyes. They nearly matched her own. "I wish I could repay you…" she said sadly. "I suppose you shall settle with a kiss."

"A…a kiss?" he stammered, his eyes widening.

"Yes, my dear boy. Like this." She planted a gentle kiss to his pale cheek. "Papa says the greatest way to repay someone is with your love."

Raoul's face had flushed red again, but Little Christine did not have the heart to laugh at him this time.

"With…love?" Raoul said uncertainly.

"Yes," she breathed, smiling breathlessly. "And I do think, Raoul, that it will not be difficult at all to give you my love."

Raoul had been right; he would never be whole again. The little girl on the shore, although she possessed no magic, indeed possessed pieces of his very heart. Pieces he would never regain, pieces that he knew he could trust with her to guard, to keep safe. And in turn, he vowed to keep safe and close her heart. Always.

* * *

 _The end is real cheesy, for which I apologize...but I'm not **that** sorry ;) you know how I am with that RC fluff :') _

_Thank you so much for reading, please leave a review if you enjoyed!_


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